Sofi and Heather, discussing wrinkle treatments.
Heather and Mark, (mis)behaving typically.
The lovely Becca, contributing to overflowing ashtrays everywhere.
Noel, dripping with glama.
Heather and Seska, mad sprinkler maurauders.
Heather and Jane, who are usually a good deal nicer to one another.
Heather and Sabrina, who steals hats like the wanton hussy she
Hanne and Heather, blurrily sexpotting the photo booth at the
Aaron, Elise and Heather exploring the fine art of interpretive
cast & crew: the locals
Sofia ("Yo pug!" also suffices)
My five-year-old pug. She shows up plenty in the journal and many
candid photographs simply because she is consistently attached
to the leg of my pants and she is my child.
Rita, Zöe, and Flora
The three gatas of Chez Scarlet. Last year my fourth, Rosie, developed
sudden renal failure and had to be put down. Until two years ago,
my menagerie also included Moe, my white lop-eared classroom bunny.
My very best friend in Minneapolis, who I tempt into shopping,
cocktailing and lazing about too often for our own good (though
as the years have passed, she's begun to initiate the tempting
herself rather often). Who looks uncannily like Emily Watson,
I might add.
The rather sudden and quite unexpected (clever, talented, creative,
brilliant, dead sexy, funny, charming, fantastic, sarcastic, cynical,
romantic, affectionate, incredible, celebratory-of-my-unorthodox-dykiness)
love of my life who lives in Seattle. And no, I don't question
this "love of my life" business. And yes, I know that's grossly
out of character. And yes: to any questions you might have about
it, yes is the answer. Save that no, I'm not going to say much
more here, because once I start waxing poetic, I can't ever seem
to stop and I'll make the lot of you throw up.
My most recent ex-girlfriend, with whom I am still friends (because,
as you may well know, the rules with dykes are all too often that
post-breakup, you either become arch-enemies or best friends.
Ah, my queendom for some middle ground).
Heather and Carissa
One of my many hard-to-put-in-a-box relationships. Carissa simply
calls me "her other Heather," because she's getting off on the
harem vibe, while Heather and I roll our eyes in unison. We have
a lot of drinky dinners, mishmoshing of each other's issues, relationship
networking and the occasional strange and touchy-feely set of
hours in the wee morning. Heather (who spearheaded Dykes Do Drag)
and Carissa are friends and family I spend a lot of time with,
often at Happy Hour, but not always. Now and then we even stick
to coffee. They used to be very close neighbors until -- sniff!
-- they moved a good deal further away. But taxis suffice.
My gay boyfriend. Everyone needs at least one of those, too. But
not everyone is as lucky as me, because I have the Best One Ever.
Scott not only is a brilliant colorist who tends to my locks on
a barter system, he's sweet and funny as hell, he's a handsome
critter (and single, I should mention), and he likes coffee and
my dog as much as I do.
... is a goddess and fellow local artist. She's modeled for/with
me a few times, may be the most amazing jeweler the world over,
and we spend hours talking art, love, creative chaos and divine
inspiration when our equally overbooked schedules permit.
My gentle giant of a kickboxing/boxing training partner. He's
a Dominican Republic native who bizarrely came to the Minneapolis
via Iowa, and he gives me more marks and bruises than any play
partner I've ever had. He's not been informed of this irony.
The goddess of hair at Hair Police, where I seem to run into/network
with far too many people whilst bearing a head full of foils.
My colorist and stylist usually has her schedule overbooked because
everyone I know wants to see her. Our appointments also tend to
linger longer than they should and turn into wine-drinking outings
because neither of us knows how to shut the hell up and we're
the girl posse
An ever-shifting group, this is the organic clan created on much
needed all-girl nights out, that usually includes at least one
of the cast and crew here, as well as other friends, Dykes Do
Drag gals, Becca's pals or out-of-town friends visiting.
...was once my neighbor down the block, but is now my neighbor
a few streets away. He's my camera guru I have coffee-mornings
full of ADD-inspired conversation and guy-talk with somewhat regularly.
My firechasing friend and non-girlfriend-girlfriend (who finally
got a nickname). Because everyone needs one, you know. No, really.
Even if she does pilfer drags off your cigarettes, nor ever let
you live down the fact that a job managed to keep you from making
it to your first date. She is deadly gorgeous and just bloody
fantastic, so we let her have those giant faults only somewhat
My sometimes-kickboxing partner, occasional model, and the occasional
shared-waster of my Saturdays. She's part of the growing umlaut
club in my life, and one of these bizarre people with a job that
lets her email me all day and still gives her a paycheck.
My (ex) partner, my once best friend, my (former) roommate, and
for a long time, my photographer. Our romantic relationship didn't
end well years back, so we're still not talking or seeing one
another, but it doesn't feel right not to have him on this page,
or not in my life.
the out-of-town (ir)regulars
My trusty helper with Femmerotic and Scarleteen, a source of all-day
conversation while we both work from home, and one of my closest
and most-loved friends. I adore Seska and her partner James and
we visit each other at least once a year.
My oldest web chum. Long-distance bills are not, however, our
friends, so we try and make do with ICQ and the occasional cross-contintental
visit. We generally fail miserably and pay the long-distance bills
in spite, usually while in bathtubs across the country. Jane and
I have been friends since the humble beginnings of both of our
web empires and are often entirely guilty of cronyism.
The only friend I have ever had who is an heiress in recovery,
and a woman with whom I have so much in common it is either eerie
& terrifying for the world, funny as hell or all of the above.
You all should be very grateful I've no desire to head back to
England, for mass mayhem would ensue. (Addendum: for those select
few of you who know full well what happened when I DID head back
to the UK to see Bri for her wedding, you now know I wasn't kidding.)
Were it not for Hanne, I would likely have expired long ago. My
business partner, partner-in-kvetching, occasional co-author,
and the only woman I know besides myself who works in sexuality,
was a classically trained opera singer, AND has a shrine for Sophie
The sacred keeper of my photo bloopers, and smile and giggle fetishist.
I have met few men in the world who I love more dearly. He's usually
the reason my monitor is splattered with coffee, and bravely takes
on the job of keeping my spirits up when they sink to a low point.
Peter is another one of those men, too. An adorable kinkster in
Seattle with the World's Most Glorious Tummy, he helps out at
Scarleteen now and then and offers me support (and I likewise)
whenever I need it. he's also the only other person I know who
gets shivers down his spine at the mere mention of electrical
play like I do.
Hanne's partner who just happens to be the cutest thing since
sliced bread, and my very favorite geek in the whole world.
My mother currently lives in Chicago, but we talk plenty, more
so as the years go by. She's a brilliant hospital administrator
and infectious disease educator and a darn good mom to boot.
My mothers fabulous and hilarious sidekick and partner.
My father also currently lives in Chicago (with a healthy distance
between he and my mother, who should be kept from the same room
at all costs) and is, and always has been, my very best buddy,
even through a lot of tumult.
A longtime member and friend who I tend to talk to a great deal,
and proof-positive that not ALL Southern men are utter assholes
(yes, I know that's a terrible thing to say, I do).
Assorted scarleteen and scarlet letters volunteers
I swear, I have the best volunteers in the world. Besides working
their bums off for nothing, they're also great to talk to and
dish with. Some of the regular dishers are Michele, Todd, Lisa,
Bob, Malcolm, Kythryne, Chris, Caro, Koi, Lin, Kitten, Danny,
Gumdrop, Bob, Ron, Beppie, Laurel and a motley crew of others.
other assorted regulars
Jhames, Steve, Gray, Heather (#3), Kelly, the baby Zoe, Jeff,
Becka, Debra, Nicolas, Todd, Lisa, Stacy, Gary, Arlene, Billy,
Molly, Brian (#2), Jaime, Audra, Lauren, Emira, Fred, Jim, Shelby
and a whole lot of ex-so-and-so's.
people, places and things
My other home office, where Sofia is resident mascot (and I get
yelled at if I go without her in tow).
Chez Scarlet, Home or The Pad
My place of residence. I live in a funky, possibly too-hip neighborhood
in Uptown Minneapolis, in a highly fabulous flat in the treetops
with lots of unpainted wood, built-ins, sunlight, a tiled sunporch
full of plants, many piles of paper and more cafes in a ten-block
radius then there are Baptist churches in Alabama.
My sangha & dharma center
A beautiful vietnamese zen meditation center a rather long walk,
moderate bus ride, or short cab hop away. Some of my Friday or
Sunday mornings are spent there, and it makes me tremendously
happy and centered. I've been bad about it in the last year though,
and need to get back in the habit again.
Training for Life
Where I sometimes teach and go to punch the crap out of heavy
bags or try and hit Dante on a regular basis and often injure
Dykes Do Drag
Every third weekend, I live here. Seriously. It's the best thing
in Minneapolis ever. So much so, that I tend to be unable to shut(ter) up about it. But if I didn't do some work with the troupe, and call a few
members friends, I might be mistaken for a groupie. Which I absolutely
am not. Nuh-uh. No way. Not me.